


if you've been waiting for falling in love...

by nyabatos



Series: a thousand lifetimes [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Burn, byleth doesn't know how to love, the story from byleth's perspective, they're all idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyabatos/pseuds/nyabatos
Summary: it was just a cycle, forever reaching for something so out of reach.so why was she still doing it?opening her eyes to a world she had seen a hundred times before, she finally found something different.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: a thousand lifetimes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707730
Comments: 12
Kudos: 76





	if you've been waiting for falling in love...

**Author's Note:**

> highly recommended song to listen to while reading this: sanctuary by joji.

_Day 20th, Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

Byleth opened her eyes to another cycle of life.

Was it even life at this point?

Looking around with the image of Sothis still fresh in her mind, she knew exactly where she was. After all, she is the vessel of the divine goddess of Fódlan.

It would only be common sense that she is the Beginning.

She tugged at the heavenly power that rests within her. No luck. Time hadn’t deemed it proper yet to submit to her, to bestow upon her the Divine Pulse, thick and sticky between her fingers like a heartbeat. 

The timing never changes, but she found herself trying again and again to break out of this cycle, as inevitable as the sun rising from the Eastern land filled with the sands of time. 

“Hey kid,” her father said, and it had been decades since she last heard his voice. A visceral desire to embrace him struck her like a hammer, but she knew better than to give in. 

Whatever game they were all playing, fate was never kind when she broke the script.

Nodding to Jeralt, and barely stopping tears from prickling in her eyes, she let the game play out exactly how it always does. In these early moments her choices never mattered.

Killing became a matter of fact to her. The sun is hot, the ocean is blue, and the Ashen Demon kills. She had long lost count of how many lives she had taken; perhaps even more than the goddess herself had created. Lifetimes spanned decades and hundreds of thousands had fallen at her mercy, and their blood still stains her palms no matter how hard she scrubbed. The Sword of the Creator might as well be crimson now, and a part of her found it ironic; the bones of the Mother Goddess would of course drip the blood of her children.

She wondered if this was her purpose. To kill, again and again, endlessly spilling another’s life force until the day she bleeds out herself. 

If so, Sothis has got a sick sense of humor. 

_It was not me,_ the goddess had insisted once, sitting upon her throne in the darkness of Byleth’s dreams, _I would never subject you to such torture, my child._

 _Then who was it?_ She had wanted to ask, to demand an explanation from the vast cosmic of Sothis’s mind, to pull out any thought, any power that could let her perish eternally like she deserved. 

But there was nothing she could do. If even the Mother couldn’t help her, nothing could. 

So she found herself clinging to her boundless curiosity for sanity. She took a page from Claude’s book and started picking people open, learning everything there is to know about them. Each timeline she spent building bridges, making every possible choice in the hopes of seeing something she hadn’t seen before. Each time the clock restarted, she inched closer to the absolute, to knowledge so infinite no one could possibly comprehend. 

The first few lives, she woke up thinking it was all a dream. A twisted episode of deja vu, or perhaps a hallucination. Maybe she was going insane, maybe someone poisoned her, or maybe she was stuck in a coma, floating beyond the reaches of time and space. The possibility that she was trapped in an endless cycle of death and rebirth without actually being born again didn’t even occur to her until the fifth timeline, when she finally found out the truth of her origins.

Seiros, or _Rhea_ , she thought with a wrinkle of her nose, had created Byleth in hopes of resurrecting the progenitor god. In doing so, she might’ve poured immortality into the wrong being, a human of flesh and blood and a thousand lifetimes, and not the All-Mother she so desired. Sothis had chuckled in Byleth’s mind at this revelation; only her eldest daughter could’ve done something with such disastrous consequences without even thinking about it. 

_It’s not funny,_ Byleth had grumbled, only to be met with an even louder bout of laughter, light and clear as the summer sky. 

Sothis had been her one constant companion. After the first one hundred existences of trying fruitlessly to stop the war that ravaged Fódlan, she had accepted that she could never go far back enough to stop the root of this eternal battle. Edelgard will forever bear the Crest of Flames and a hatred burning just as bright, Dimitri will forever be shadowed by the blood soaked ghosts of his past, and Claude…

Byleth grimaced at the thought of her Golden Deer. 

Claude had been an enigma that had taken her ten lifetimes to completely figure out. There was always something she would miss about him, some details that happened behind closed doors that she was not aware of. And Byleth knew, she wasn’t the first to have fallen for his charming smile and wicked wink, but there was something lurking in him that was so much darker, so much more tragic. And she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

Seeing him again in front of her, seventeen and face so young she could squeeze milk out of it, was almost enough to undo her composure. Images of him in a distant past misted with the future flashed in her mind; Claude in his decorated armor after the war, riding atop his majestic wyvern and landing on the bridge of Garreg Mach to place a kiss on her forehead, Claude in the kitchen in their home in Derdriu, trying to make her breakfast in bed for her birthday, Claude in her sheets, all heated skin and burning touch, begging for deliveranceー

Shaking her head out of the rush of memoriesーshe _really_ should be used to it by nowーByleth offered the three lordlings in front of her a nod of acknowledgement when they thanked her profusely for saving their lives.

She had never truly loved him. Or anyone for that mattered. Of course she had enjoyed his company and had shown him the proper dedication a wife should have to her husband, but she had never felt that burning love aside from a fleeting passion whenever he would make love to her. She tried to not think too much of it; maybe the fact that her heart was made of literal stone had rendered her incapable of such emotion. Byleth only tried to do her lovers justice each time she spent a life with them.

At her father’s predictable and completely justified hesitance to return to Garreg Mach, Byleth ignored the situation and reached further into her mind to awaken Sothis. She felt oddly lonely without her little omnipotent ghost friend. 

_You ought to show me more respect_ , said friend grumbled, sleep dripping from her hoarse voice. _It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose. Very rude indeed._

 _Oh please,_ she snorted. _You’ve been sleeping for too long. And well…I’ve missed you. You never stick around after my slumber. It’s been decades since I’ve heard your voice._

 _Oh, would you look at that,_ Sothis grinned, full of mirth and fondness, _Looks like the Ashen Demon does know how to love after all._ At the look on Byleth’s face, the goddess laughed warmly. _I jest, of course. I have missed you too._

_Welcome back, starlight._

* * *

_Day 27th, Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

He kept sneaking glances at her. 

The first time was when they were on their way back to Garreg Mach, her father in the front with his friend Alois, the latter chatting boisterously while the former looked bone tired. The three lordlings had accompanied her, the Imperial Princess, the Crown Prince, and the heir of the Alliance. Of course by now she knew them down to the way their hair sways, so she tuned out their incessant chatter and attempts to win her over. She didn’t have a plan as to which house she would pick; her previous life had ended after an assassination attempt that left her feeling more miffed than outraged, and she woke up to this new one without looking forward to much. At least Claude got to live a long and fulfilling life. She did regret having to leave their son behind though; the little one was starting to grow on her. That was the one thing she had never done up until then; having children with any of her lovers. She had had so much hope that he would be the one to make her love. 

_Perhaps_ , she considered, completely done with everything, _it would be interesting to side with Edelgard this time._

After the meeting with Archbishop Rhea, a woman Byleth still couldn’t find it in her to stomach despite Sothis’s winces, she was given a period of exploration. The fact that she had done this so many times did take the novelty off it, but Garreg Mach was still a sight to behold no matter how many lives she had lived. The stone walls and spires were so tall they touched the sky, smooth and faded underneath her touch, cool with echoes of foreign wars so far in the past even she couldn’t have witnessed. The cathedral was as majestic as she had remembered it, not that she was a very religious person despite being the literal vessel for the very goddess Fódlan worships. Sothis laughed in her mind, and she couldn’t stop from returning the gesture with a small smile of her own.

“You’re smiling,” a voice broke her from her train of thought. She quickly turned to her right to find that Claude, the little bastard, had somehow snuck up on her. “I didn’t think I would ever see that from the infamous Ashen Demon.” 

And just like that, he pushed himself into her eternal life once again, like a drop of water on a river current. How many waves could he make this time?

Byleth thought, puzzled, that something seemed different about him.

“Lord von Riegan,” she greeted, perhaps a little more eager to push his buttons than she was willing to admit to herself. “That wasn’t your best opener to talking to a stranger.”

There was that familiar gleam in his eyes that said he accepted her challenge, that he would play her game. “Oh please, call me Claude,” the boy gave her a little bow, looking up at her from his lashes with intent. “And ouch, maybe you have a point. Let me start again. What brings you to this place on such a beautiful afternoon?”

He had found her dipping her toes in the fishing pond, one of the only places in the monastery that she could find some peace and quiet with her thoughts. The training grounds were too loud and filled with rambunctious teenagers; Felix had been as predictable as always and demanded her to spar with him as soon as he spotted Seteth giving her a tour of the facilities. She had nodded, a promise to come back and completely wipe the floor with him, and that had placated him enough for him to turn back to the flustered prince he was training with. 

“Good place to think,” she replied after a while, and his returning smile told her that he understood the sentiment.

“Ah, well, can’t argue with that.” Claude plopped himself down next to her, his smile widening into a grin when she begrudgingly scooted over to make space lest he falls into the lake. “You are joining us at the academy, I believe? Most people would think you’re going to enroll, considering how young you are, but a little birdie told me Rhea’s offering you a position in the faculty. Am I right?”

And the smug look on his face was almost insufferable if it didn’t make him so roguishly handsome. She scoffed. “Where did you get that information?”

“Oh, a magician never reveals his tricks.”

“Well, whatever intel you got was right. Rhea wants me to be a professor.”

“Professor, eh?” The curious gleam in his eyes shifted into something more guarded, more cautious at the notion that she might hold power over him. He was doing a damn good job at concealing it, but she had known him so intimately over so many lifetimes that he had no chance at hiding. “And which house will you be instructing?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said blankly. She honestly still hasn't made up her mind.

“Aw, come on Teach,” There it was. His exclusive little pet name for her. He gave her that ridiculous eyebrows wiggle that she held dear to her heart as one of the few things she did not grow tired of after hundreds of years. “You? Me? Golden Deer? We could be great together.” 

And they were, she supposed. She couldn’t lie and say Golden Deer hadn’t been a personal favorite, having picked them far more than she had the Blue Lions and Black Eagles. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Byleth replied, picking herself up from the pier and dusting off her clothes. He clamored a bit to get on his feet and keep up with her frisk pace, incredulous laughter pouring out of him like smooth chocolate, sweet and thick in the back of his tongue. 

And she thought, with a little snicker in the back of her mind that she was sure was Sothis’s, that perhaps she won’t tire of listening to that laughter either.

* * *

_Day 7th, Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

In the end, Blue Lions was her choice. 

She didn’t even have anything to justify the decision. Her last timeline was already dedicated to the Golden Deer and their charismatic leader; it would only make sense that her attention be better divided this time. It was no coincidence that whichever house she picked tends to survive the war. And even though the lives of these people don’t really have any meaning considering how in the end she would just turn back the clock to the Beginning, the thought unsettled her so much that she would rather still do her best to ensure their survival. 

If only for her guilty conscience. She was sick of killing.

“Professor,” Dimitri called, snapping her out of the trance, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Dimitri,” she said. They were sitting together in one of the spare classrooms after he offered to explain how everything works to her. She already knew all of this, of course; could recite it from memory, but a game is a game. There are certain rules she had to follow.

The prince was interesting, to say the least. Now that she had long unraveled his mysteries, she found herself appreciating the softness of his smile before she disappeared, the blush on his cheeks and how he would always stammer and avoid her eyes. Byleth wasn’t very keen on the way he changed after her fall, but she supposed it was inevitable. The ghosts that haunt him are hard to get rid of, after all. 

His strength never once unnerved her. She was one for appreciating beauty, and there was something inherently beautiful in the way he could rip open an iron gate without so much as a flex in his muscles. She relished in the knowledge of how he is the only one who could seriously hurt her but instead chose not to, and the restraint he had was something to be admired. Even in the previous lifetimes when he had made love to her, when she craved something more primal and hungry and merciless, he still had obliged and satisfied her until her legs felt like jelly. But he had held back. She had seen him crush a man’s skull with his bare hands numerous times, after all; she knew what he was capable of. 

She wondered, idly, if she could make his composure snap this time.

Dimitri had bid her goodbye once the bells tolled outside their window, and reminded her to make her way to the dining hall. It was time for dinner, and even though early on the cooks didn’t really make anything she fancied, she supposed food was still important to keep herself running. 

_Since when did you pick favorites?_ Sothis asked, an underlying current of meaning slithering through her words that Byleth chose to ignore. _You used to not care what anything tastes like._

 _Well, once you’ve lived long enough you tend to find out things about yourself,_ Byleth replied, looking up at the dying sun, a horizon saturated with shades of orange and purple. _I like the sunset._

 _After that boy Claude took you to Almyra, that is._ The goddess teased, a fond smile dancing on her lips. _Do you not agree that the sunset over the ocean is truly something to be in awe of?_ Byleth didn’t really have anything to say to that.

Silence filled between them. She could feel Sothis’s exasperation without even needing to look at her. 

_Maybe,_ she finally admitted.

Her little ghost friend gave her a warm look that melted her heart just a little.

The dining hall was bustling with people as always, students and staff alike talking and laughing. The Blue Lions waved her over as Annette scooted on her seat to make space for their teacher. Byleth blinked once, finding hands grasping at her robes, beckoning for her to sit down. Felix scoffed at the display, but moved his plate when Ingrid gave him a look. 

Her students were beside themselves with excitement, pestering her with questions about the curriculum and what she was planning on teaching them. Dimitri stepped in, predictably, asking his friends to give her some space. She will teach them when the time comes. 

Over her shoulder, Byleth could feel a gaze settling on her back, heavier than stone. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was from.

He was doing it again. She snorted into her cup; her little deer was less subtle than he thought he was. 

She chanced a glance back at him just to see him get flustered at being caught. The Golden Deers were hovering over their house leader again. They could clearly tell something was wrong, Claude had been out of sorts for quite a while now, and her brows furrowed in confusion. He seemed different this time. Somehow. There was a spark of something in his verdant eyes that was hard to read, and if she hadn’t spent decades picking him open she would’ve missed it. That look of recognition.

In her mind, the goddess agreed, worried. What exactly did he recognize?

* * *

_Day 26th, Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

The sweltering heat was not helping it.

Byleth walked down the shadowed halls, roasting in the feverish warmth of the summer air. Students have long retreated inside, opting to stay in the cooled classrooms and reception halls to avoid this unbearable heat. Dear goddess, it was horrible.

 _Well, you have certainly handled worse,_ said goddess mused. _The Almyran sun permanently ruined my complexion._

Byleth grumbled. _You’re a ghost, Sothis. You don’t_ have _a complexion._

The sound of footsteps approaching stopped her from hearing the goddess’s indignant retort. Soldiers in full metal armor marched through the corridor, and she winced in sympathy for them. They must be baking in that. 

The Knights of Seiros were frantically mobilizing. It’s the Goddess’s Rite of Rebirth today, and Byleth was somewhat anxious but for reasons nobody could’ve guessed. A part of her, that she suspected had nothing to do with Sothis, was restless to reunite with the Sword of the Creator. She missed the feeling of the sturdy grip in her hands, of the warm glow of magic that pulses like blood, of how the sword always feels like a seamless extension of herself. The goddess always gave her a disgusted look at those thoughts.

She had cleaved a mountain in half once just to find out if the legends were true. They most definitely were.

One battle fought tooth and nail later, and she emerged from the Holy Mausoleum with her students, bruised and battered but proud. The weight of the blade on her hip was reassuring, and even Sothis had settled somewhat at this inevitable point of their endless adventure. 

_It’s a part of you,_ Byleth had said. The sword had pulsed in agreement, and the goddess looked sick, but there was something strangely tortured in her expression, too. 

_It is the body that was taken from me,_ she had scowled, turning away from her host. _I doubt you would be pleased to see your corpse paraded as a weapon._

That was the only fight they have ever had in their centuries of friendship. Reclaiming the sword was part of the game they were all playing, and so as much as Sothis did not want to look at it again, there was nothing the two of them could do about it. 

Dimitri caught up with her, offering to brief the Archbishop in her place. “You should get some rest, Professor,” he said, something wary in his expression that she was used to seeing, “The battle was hard fought. It must’ve been taxing on you.”

“I’m fine, Dimitri,” she assured the prince, setting her hand on the hilt of her blade. “Make sure you ask Mercedes to tend to Ashe; he took quite a blow there.”

His face softened, and he gave her a gentle smile that was full of adoration. “Of course.” A pause, and the smile on his face morphed into one of confusion. “Looks like we have a guest, Professor.”

“Hey Teach,” a voice approached them, and on Sothis’ loving Fódlan who else would call her that?

“I will see you later,” Dimitri took his cue, gave her a bow and left. Next to him, Claude stood there with an easy smile on his face, but of course, it didn’t reach his eyes. She could see it in his tense jawline and the clench of his fists in the crook of his elbows that he had questions for her. 

Memories of their last lifetime together invaded her mind, like they normally do. The vignette of him on their first date after the war, standing with his arms crossed very much the same way they do now, jittery from uncharacteristic anxiety other than being tense and guarded. Regret briefly passed her unmoving heart, so sudden and unexpected she had not even managed to conceal it.

And he saw. The way his lips quirked changed the tiniest bit, dropped a centimeter, and she cursed herself. Something horrible had happened to Fódlan’s best poker face numerous lifetimes ago, she was sure. But it was still damn good. And yet he remained the only person alive who could still read her like a book. 

But the way he looked at her made her softened. “You don’t look so well, Claude,” she smiled, and he flinched just the tiniest bit at the sound of his own name. “Would you care for some tea?”

“Guh.”

 _Guh?_ Sothis exclaimed aloud in her mind with mirth, seemingly unable to hold in her endless amusement. _You demon. Look at the poor boy!_

Byleth bit her lip to stop the grin spilling out of her, but couldn’t. The most she could’ve done was to stop herself from the onslaught of laughter that would’ve surely followed, had her heart not been made of stone.

“Come now,” she said, gathering her composure just as quickly as she had lost it, “Let’s have some tea in my office. You like Almyran Pine Needles, don’t you?”

“How’d you know?” He sputtered, red dusting his dark skin, and the goddess sighed in her mind. _Poor boy._

“Oh, it’s just a lucky guess.”

* * *

_Day 25th, Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

Byleth slumped into her chair in the Blue Lions classroom, exhausted. Sothis giggled in her mind. No matter how many times she has gone through the White Heron Cup, it will never stop being equal parts hilarious and tiresome to her.

Because this time, she decided to coax Felix into competing. 

The boy had vehemently refused, spitting arguments and barely stopping himself from spewing obscenities at her. It was only when she had wiped the floor with him on a duel and knocked him flat on his ass that he had relented. Sylvain and Ingrid had snickered mercilessly as they dressed him up in navy blue silk and silver tassels, and the red haired boy swatted his friend’s rear and sent him off with a smile. Felix’s immediate reaction to strangle him was only held off by Dimitri’s ruthless strength, and the prince picked him up like a child with a tut.

“Let me down this _instance_ , you boar!” Felix howled, and the rest of the class bursted out in laughter. 

To everyone’s surprise but Byleth’s, he won the Cup almost effortlessly.

The entrance hall was bustling with activity as servants prepared for the Ball tonight. Even though Byleth was dreading what would happen tomorrow, when she would inevitably lose her beloved father again, she couldn’t show it.

 _I am sorry,_ Sothis said in her mind, offering comfort, _I wish we could change it._

 _I’ve long accepted it as fate,_ Byleth replied, shaking away the emotions building in the back of her throat.

The goddess seemed sad, melancholy almost. _That it is, my friend._

So as the night fell and students flocked to the halls decorated with golden lights, Byleth swallowed her feelings and walked inside. She had a job to do, after all.

Garreg Mach appeared to have been scrubbed clean of its recent bloodshed, gleaming in wealth and magic. The faithful have lit candles everywhere, their blood coursing with excitement for the millenium festival, still five years hence. Every single student has left their dormitories, dressed up in their evening wear and now stood around the dance floor, drinking fancy wine taken from the monastery’s century old cellar. Seteth was, of course, disapproving of such practices, but Rhea had just laughed and said let them enjoy their youth while wishing for hers again. Whispers rose up as Byleth made her way inside the hall and to her station where she would be chaperoning the event. She raised an eyebrow at a cluster of students huddling next to her, buzzing with gossip, and they balked at the blank look on her face before dispersing almost immediately.

 _Still works,_ she thought to herself with the smallest hint of a smile.

The musicians picked up their instruments and started playing a soft waltz, a tune she knew so well. Dimitri and Edelgard have already gone to the dance floor with their respective partners, and a small part of her lamented on how much she wanted to see them dance together, just like they did when they were children. Putting that thought aside, she half heartedly scanned the room, seeing if anyone would be enough of a fool and seek trouble in front of Seteth, if only for her entertainment. And Claude would approach her like he always does, any moment now…

“Hey, Teach,” And there it was, his voice calling out to her so sweetly. She turned around just in time for him to take her hand and lead her into an effortless waltz. His wink would never fail to catch her heart off guard, and she reasoned it was only because of how charming he looked. 

Claude prompted her to place a hand on his shoulder, then wrapped his own fingers around her waist, his embrace warm and strong. Byleth quietly reveled in the touch, in how she could feel the callouses made from years of wielding the bow pressed against her heated skin through the fabric, and when he nudged her they started moving, spinning across the dance floor and holding onto each other. The smile he had on his face was positively beaming, even though she could tell he was nervous and half of his mind seemed to be occupied with not stepping on her toes. 

They swayed to the mellow music, making small talk about their days. He had, apparently, been absolutely bamboozled by Hilda and had ended up taking her share of the chores, a whole week of laundry duty. Hilda had made a bet with him on who could drink more, batting her eyelashes and baiting him into accepting it. After a quick but efficient trip into the monastery’s massive stellar, it had turned out that Holst had made sure his little sister could, in fact, drink _anyone_ under the table. 

Byleth laughed out loud unexpectedly. He had never told her this story in any previous lifetimes and by the goddess was the feeling of finding out something new nostalgic. He went silent at the sound of her laughter, small but sweet and carefree, and the expression on his face was something akin to awe. 

“Oh by the way, Teach,” His smile grew tenfold after the music faded to an end, and applause rose from the partygoers, “You’re gonna like this.”

Another song started playing, the tempo much more upbeat and colloquial than the tune they had been dancing to before. The students gawked for a split second in pure surprise before they all poured to the dance floor in barely contained excitement, shuffling around until they were in two lines, one male, one female. Claude was giving her that shit-eating grin of his that somehow seemed so endearing and gripped her hand, pulling her into the chaos.

In the corner of her eye, Byleth could barely make out Seteth’s absolutely floundered expression, Flayn’s unrestrained joy and desire, and Rhea’s rare laughter at the occurrence. The Archbishop nodded her permission with a smile that finally showed her teeth, and the musicians played louder than they did before, blending in with the loud cheer from the students.

“What is this?” Byleth asked Claude, slightly frantic despite herself. He only laughed, mouthing something that she couldn’t hear over the chaos and looked suspiciously like the word ‘mixer’, and reached into his pocket to pull out a little yellow flower before tucking it in her hair. His smile shifted into something more gentle, almost adoring, before the glint disappeared in the pools of his eyes and he gave her a bow just as the other boys in his line did to their partners.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, charm turning up so bright it was almost blinding. Sothis squealed in her mind like she wasn’t a goddess thousands of years old, and nudged her to take his hand. The dance he pulled her into was a frenzy that left her breathless, fast paced movement laced with unrestrained laughter. It was so different from all the other lifetimes where she had danced a simple waltz with him and then a handful of other students. 

“How did you do this?” She asked when he slid so close to her she could feel his warmth, one arm around her waist holding her stable in the midst of the absolute anarchy of the dance floor. 

“Pulled some strings,” was his reply alongside a grin full of teeth.

Byleth rolled her eyes. “You bribed the musicians, didn’t you?”

“ _Professor!_ ” He gasped at her in mock indignance, the smile still playing on his lips. “To even _suggest_ that I would commit such an act!”

She smirked, tapping the tip of his nose with a finger. “I know you better than you would think, Claude von Riegan,” Oh no, it slipped from her, and his eyes froze in shock. She couldn’t help it, though. 

Good thing the goddess saved her when the music changed and everyone spun away from their partners. He quickly got pushed away from her by an overeager boy from Black Eagles, giving her a puzzled look over his shoulder, flabbergasted. 

The night continued in the way the Ball always does, full of excitement that drains her energy. She found herself face to face with Flayn once, the girl vibrating in her spot with elation at finally being allowed to participate. They bowed to each other, smiles genuine, before being swept up in the tempo of the next song. 

Walking out to the garden an hour later, Byleth heaved a breath. That was almost too much. She had become acquainted with the fact that apparently everybody wanted a piece of her, but this level of near hysteria was unprecedented. 

Wait.

Unprecedented?

She gave Sothis a worried look. If she wasn’t involved in this decision, would it still have consequences? The goddess frowned in her mind.

What made this timeline different from all of the previous ones?

Her train of thought was derailed as Dimitri entered her vision. Here we go.

“Ah, Professor,” the prince said, before stopping in his tracks. She gave him a puzzle look.

“My apologies, Professor,” he was looking away now, a blush on his face. “It’s just…that flower in your hair.”

She reached up and pulled the blossom down. In the frantic pace of the ball she had forgotten all about it, the little gift Claude had given her with that blinding smile of his. “What about it?” 

“It’s…” Why was he hesitating? “It’s a daffodil.” 

And he said that as if she was supposed to know what that meant. The sight of her eyebrows knitting together was probably enough to convey her confusion, as Dimitri cleared his throat.

“The daffodil flower,” he started, flushing even harder now, “symbolizes unrequited love.”

 _Love?_ Sothis balked in her mind. _Wow, the boy is_ bold _this time. I like him._

 _Not the time,_ Byleth hissed. _He’s not supposed to love me!_

“Professor,” Dimitri spoke up again at the stupor on her features, “Are you alright?”

She blinked several times to smooth over the scowl threatening to show on her face. “Yes, Dimitri,” she said, and just like that, her poker face was back on. “Let’s continue this somewhere else, shall we?”

And as she dragged him to the Goddess Tower, fully intending to just end this night already and pointedly ignoring the warm feeling spreading in her chest like drops of sunlight. In her haste, she missed the pained look of longing a certain Golden Deer gave her, hidden in the shadows. 

And if she had kept the flower pressed in a book hidden in her quarters, nobody needs to know.

* * *

_Day 31st, Guardian Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

The first flakes of snow landed on her shoulder as she chased Monica across the woods, hellbent on making the girl pay.

Watching her father meet his mortal end again was difficult, to say the least. It was the one part of her endless journey that never failed to make her cry. At least this time she had made sure to spend as much time with him as possible. 

Jeralt was never fond of tea, but he had tolerated it for her sake. The day before they went out to the destined mission, she had snuck him a flask of whiskey during tea time, and he had laughed boisterously and ruffled her hair, saying that he was proud of having her as his daughter.

That was almost enough to make her cry. The Ashen Demon had long been softened by centuries of tragedies repeating itself, by hopeless attempts at averting their fates, by love and loss and everything in between. She loved her father, she loved her students, and in a way, she had loved her partners too. Just…

Never truly genuine enough.

Byleth shook the thought from her head with a battle cry, the Sword of the Creator stretching out its spiny blade at her unspoken command. Next to her, Claude let out a flurry of arrows, covering her ruthless path of destruction. Sothis hummed in her mind noncommittally. 

They both knew what was to come.

So when Solon trapped her inside the void of darkness, they shared a look together in the dim throne room, lit only by magic.

“Both sides of time are revealed to you, and you alone. Make good use of it.” The goddess spoke, affection plain in her timeless eyes. Byleth nodded, holding out her hand to once again feel their souls being fused to one. “I shall see you once more, starlight.”

“Goodbye for now, Sothis.”

When the light faded, for a split second the realization dawned on her again that she was well and truly alone now.

The rush of energy that filled her bones, of absolute power only the progenitor god could’ve given, sparked her entire being like a match as Byleth tore her way through time and space. 

And on the other side Claude was there, staring at her in reverence. 

She found herself torn between wanting to freeze that expression on his face for the rest of time and pushing him away before disaster befalls all of them.

They made quick work of the battle, her newly forged sword hissing like molten steel, splattered with Agarthan blood. She shook their blood off the blade, face as impassive as ever. Kronya and Solon deserved to die a thousand times for what they did.

Rage swirled inside her like a dormant beast. The urge to lash out and cleave a mountain in half was only suppressed when both Claude and Dimitri came up to her, hands on her shoulder to ground her back to reality. She looked at them, eyes wide in her grief as it finally settled in that she had once again lost her father and her longtime companion. 

But for that moment, looking at the smile Claude was giving her, full of relief and awe, Byleth knew she was not alone.

Somehow, the thought terrified her. 

* * *

_Day 29th, Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

The Holy Mausoleum glowed softly with the magic of Crest Stones and dimly lit candles, altars covered in a fine layer of dust and time. Rhea had looked at her with barely contained hope, so deep and desperate it was almost feral. She hated that look.

Sitting upon Sothis’s throne, Byleth almost rolled her eyes at the disappointment staining the Archbishop’s face. The holy Lady Rhea, as competent as she was at remaining neutral, looked crestfallen when nothing happened. But of course nothing happened.

“It was supposed to be but a step away,” Rhea said, frustration dripping from her tone uncontrollably, her eyebrows knitted into a tight line. “What could possibly be missing?”

The irony was, in order for Byleth to receive the mint color of her hair and the power coursing through her veins, Sothis had to perish. If the goddess had remained with her, her Nabatean features would’ve never shown. 

Of course, it wasn’t like the Archbishop was aware of this. Byleth pettily kept the details to herself.

And Edelgard came as a perfectly fine distraction, anyhow. Byleth had been itching to pick up her blade again; she wasn’t sure she wanted to witness Dimitri losing it again.

And Byleth knew better than to try talking Dimitri out of his bloodlust.

The boy had tethered on the edge of madness, demolishing Edelgard’s personal guard entourage when her mask had fallen. The sick crunch of bones giving under brute force still made her queasy even after seeing the event unfold for hundreds of times. And the smile on his face, deranged with hysterical glee, reflected on the silver lance he wielded with a twisted gleam. 

Weapons and magic clashed in the empty tomb, golden flashes of friction and fire and everything in between. The Ashen Demon tore through anyone who would dare stand in her way, the ferocity and thrill of battle made her drunk on adrenaline. With the sword in her hand she could forget about the feeling of blood splashed on her flesh, of blood staining her clothes, blood squelching under her boots, even for just a moment. The soft glow of healing magic kept her going as Mercedes was right on her heels, fire magic sparking every single nerve with white hot righteousness.

Dimitri was by her side, maniacal laughter bathed in the golden glow of a mage’s Seraphim that barely missed him by a hair’s breadth. His hand clutched his lance, conversing to the ghosts in his head in harsh whispers and cleanly impaling a soldier foolish enough to approach him. Byleth turned away from the sight, still unsettled to this day by the way he killed with so little remorse. So different from the gentle boy she had known.

Was this how she had looked like to the others, driven to madness by rage and grief for her father that she would take a life without blinking? The thought had never even crossed her mind before.

Not until Claude had pointed it out, a few days after the skirmish.

He had approached her, looking nervous, something so uncharacteristic that it had taken her full attention. Setting her cup of tea down, she had leveled him with a flat stare. He had never sought her out like this before. 

“ProーTeach,” He cursed himself silently for the slip, coughing a bit to cover it up. “May I have a moment of your time?”

She gestured for him to join her with the barest quirk of her eyebrow. “Of course.”

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, reaching for a teacup just to have something to do with his shaky fingers, “You scared us nearly to death, collapsing like that at the forest.”

“That was last month, Claude. I’m doing better.”

Awkward silence filled the space between them. Claude fidgeted a bit more, the easy smile on his face slowly cracking before he finally gave in and said what he had come to tell her.

“Are you sure Dimitri is going to be okay?”

That caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”

He was avoiding her eyes. “He doesn’t seem…well. He looked like you did after Captain Jeralt, well,” Claude trailed off, but she knew exactly what he was referring to. “I’m just worried his judgement might be impaired.”

How right he was. “I’m sure he appreciates your concern,” His eyebrows furrowed at her words, “But I hope you can focus on the battle at hand. Archbishop Rhea needs every one of you to give it your best.” 

Claude snorted. “You don’t seem like a person who cares much about what the Archbishop has to say.”

She didn’t like how he could read her like an open book. And so Byleth stood up from the table, dusted herself off, then gestured for him to follow her to the training grounds. He was confused, but of course followed nevertheless. She had a feeling he would follow her to the ends of this world if she asked. 

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Idly Byleth wished for Sothis’s guidance, which wasn’t something she does very often.

“Here,” she said, dropping a silver sword in his hands. He clutched it a bit clumsily, grunting at the unfamiliar weight in his palms. 

“Teach, you know I prefer a bow.”

“And I know you will inevitably run out of arrows. This battle isー _will_ be like nothing you have ever seen before.” If he caught the slip, he didn’t let it show. That’s what she liked about him. He was smart. 

But he didn’t know how many times she had had to tug on that power resting inside of her when he ran out of arrows. The Battle of Garreg Mach was always a difficult one, the beginning of what would be a real war ravaging the continent of Fódlan, shattering the fragile sense of peace between the powers. Killing her students never got easier. 

Byleth doesn’t usually intervene. Each time she had tried to in the past, her one small action would lead to a cascade of events, a flapping of butterfly wings that resulted in an unstoppable hurricane. Horrible things have happened in previous timelines where she had meddled in fate, doing the one thing Sothis warned her not to do for the sake of those she cared about. Misunderstandings that plunged the land in endless fire, bitter betrayals and broken bodies, terrible consequences from her one action. She had sworn to let herself float along the stream of fate. But this time was different.

Something in her refused to let Claude die. 

And so she pressed the sword in his hands, picked up her own, and sparred with him until the sun came down on their backs with its dying light. 

When they said goodbye, drenched in sweat and grime, the look he gave her was so full of longing her frozen heart stirred. Just the tiniest bit.

That night, sleep had been difficult.

They spent the next week training as she tried to whip him into shape with what little time they had. Claude was glad to spend more time with her, and she found herself being particularly fond of him as well. Dimitri’s psyche had gotten worse; the boy looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Dedue had trailed after his prince, pestering him to eat and sleep and bathe. But of course, Dimitri’s only focus is on vengeance. 

Byleth was wary of the fact that she might not be spending enough time with her chosen. Would this have any consequences?

Looking at Claude’s smile in the sunlight, warm and genuine and full of adoration, she realized that for once, she did not care about consequences. 

And the freedom tasted so sweet she felt like she couldn’t let it go.

“Damn, Teach,” he said, panting, flat on his ass after she had knocked him down and disarmed him on the training grounds, her blade at his throat, “I always knew there was something special about you, but you've only gotten more and more extraordinary the longer I've known you.”

And then immediately flushed and covered his mouth with one hand, looking like he wanted to shank himself on her sword right there and then.

Byleth blinked down at the boy beneath her. His slightly darker skin did a decent job at concealing the fact that he was absolutely burning up right about now, and her eyes were glued to a bead of sweat trailing from his forehead down to his neck.

She got off of him immediately after that.

He had stammered apologies after apologies, citing every excuse imaginable, from his apparent lack of sleepーhis complexion was looking excellent for not sleeping, thenーto the sun beating down on themーit was the Pegasus Moon; some of the snow hadn’t even melted yetーand only stopping when she held up her hands and said it was okay. They chuckled at how much he acted unlike himself and more like Dimitri, then paused at the touchy comparison. He coughed once more and offered her a sweet ‘goodnight’. 

But when she returned to her own quarters that night, the memory of kissing his heated skin came flooding in from previous timelines, making the emptiness in her chest even more prominent. Pressing a kiss on his soft lips, resting in his warm embrace, listening to that full-bellied laughter he gave whenever she would tuck a rebellious strand of hair away from his eyesー

It was all very, very nostalgic. 

Crossing the room, she opened the hardcover book hidden underneath the mess that was supposed to be her bookshelf. It was a heavy book, with a faded blue leather cover embroidered with golden threads that read, _Almyran Tales_. 

A missing item that she couldn’t bring herself to return. The tongue used to be foreign to her, making her rely on the beautiful illustrations inside to decipher the story, but after countless lifetimes of being Claude’s wife and the Almyran Queen it would’ve been unacceptable if she hadn’t picked up the language, if only a little. 

Hidden inside the book, pressed in brown, simple parchment paper stolen from the kitchen, was the single daffodil he gave her that night, perfectly preserved and frozen in time much like herself.

 _Unrequited love,_ Dimitri had said.

Byleth wasn’t an idiot. She knew Claude had fallen for her, somehow; had pulled against the impulse to keep his distance given to him by fate. Somehow, by some goddess given way, he had been the first to break out of the cycle.

He loved her then, when she had belonged to him. And he loves her now. There was no doubt about it.

The only doubt that kept nagging in her mind was whether or not the daffodil flower had any other meanings.

One quick trip to the monastery’s library and combing through the _Etiquettes_ section had yielded results. Lorenz had even graciously offered to help her, surprised that his stoic professor would be interested in something as delicate as the language of flowers. Enduring a rant about how important it was to the nobility had been the price she paid for answers. 

The texts had told her, on stark ink and paper, that daffodils represented unrequited love. She had breathed out a breath of relief, before noticing a mark denoting the second meaning.

Life. Or rather, rebirths, new beginnings, and _eternal_ life.

Byleth had shut the book with a loud snap, face paling.

Oh Sothis, he knew. 

* * *

_Day 31st, Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1180_

Lysithea’s hands were cold. Freezing cold despite the warming weather of the Lone Moon. Byleth grimaced before blowing a stream of hot air into them and the girl shivered.

The Golden Deer and what was left of the Black Eagles had joined them, fighting for the monastery. The Knights of Seiros were called back from the reaches of the continent, ready to defend Garreg Mach until their last breath. Byleth took the girl’s hands when she noticed her shaking uncontrollably.

“I’m fine, Professor,” Lysithea had insisted, teeth clattering in anxiety. Byleth had forgotten about the fates of the other students whom she had not chosen. She never got to bring out the best in the young girl. And now if she wasn’t careful, Lysithea would die in battle.

The drive to keep them all safe struck her like a hammer. Byleth righted herself, gripping her blade. Ready to pounce.

Seteth giving them a speech about bravery and honor had psyched up the Knights but hadn’t helped the students. She could see it in their faces, the dread of real battle and war and bloodshed, and the thought of fighting the people who once were their friends and allies. Her thought drifted to Edelgard. 

The princess, now Emperor, has always been a force to be reckoned with. Her Aymr hit harder than any other relics, and sometimes it was hard to hold under Edelgard’s crushing strength, even with the Sword on her side. Byleth had spent a couple lifetimes with her, uniting Fódlan in a crucible of blood. It had never felt right.

So when battle broke out with a jarring war cry and Imperial troops rushed past the walls, she had no qualms about slaughter.

And it seemed Dimitri shared her sentiment.

“Edelgard will die by my hand, and mine alone.” The prince said, voice void of any emotion other than rage and the insatiable desire for vengeance. “Let's move, Professor. Even if it costs me my life, I won't rest until I've crushed her skull in my bare hands!”

She didn’t know what else to do but nod. 

The battle had played out exactly how it usually does. Byleth had shouted commands, pulling people out of places where they would most certainly meet their doom. The Divine Pulse felt heavy and hot in her stomach, sticky strings of a net that could tug back time for a few precious seconds. It burned the more she used it, like a branding iron in her hands, heating up the Sword until it was glowing red. But it was necessary.

A migraine had started to form by the time the Immaculate One showed herself. She had never had any respect for Rhea, aside from the moment the Archbishop had decided to sacrifice herself. The gesture was at least something Byleth could understand. Sweeping over the battlefield on the vantage point one more time, she saw Claude in the valley below with a silver sword in his hand and smirked to herself.

_Knew he would need it._

The moment didn’t last long, however, as fate continued to flow endlessly like an unstoppable stream of consciousness, the river of time cruel in its currents. 

Before long, Byleth found herself plunging endlessly into the embrace of the progenitor god.

As her eyes started to close, relieved to slumber with her only true friend, a flash of gold caught her eyes like a falling star. 

But oh, she was already so tired.

* * *

_..._

Byleth opened her eyes to see the familiar void, divinity sticking to her skin like morning dew. 

Her head was resting against the throne in her dreams, lashes fluttering at the sound of a furious child being an absolute menace.

“You fool!” The child scowled, and after blinking the sleep dust out of her eyes Byleth noticed it was actually Sothis, “Look at what you have done!”

Picking her head up, she looked blearily at the goddess. The latter seemed absolutely furious, but she couldn’t tell at what. Peering down the stairs leading up to Sothis’s throne, she saw the reason for her friend’s anger.

A small figure laid at the bottom, clad in gold.

She immediately sobered up.

“How did this happen?” Sothis fumed. “I was gone for _three months_ ー”

“Sothis, please.” The goddess kept her mouth shut when she realized just how upset her charge was. Byleth descended the steps to find him there, beaten and bruised and soaked in water, unconscious.

Claude.

He had somehow followed her even here, in the very depths of her dreams. To the ends of this world. She reached out a hand and caressed his cheek. Cold. He wasn’t breathing.

She shook her head. It can’t be.

“I can keep him alive,” The goddess spoke up, sensing her worries. “But this means I will have to split the power between the two of you.”

“What would that entail?”

Sothis grimaced. “You will not be able to use Divine Pulse as many times as you are used to, so be careful from now on. And unlike before you will age during your slumber, if only a little. So will he. But my power alone won’t be enough to wake him up.”

“Would he remain here forever?”

“That is up to you.”

Byleth looked at her friend, desperation tinting her features. “What should I do?”

“I do not have the full extent of my power. Especially since I have given you most of it to help you escape the spell of Zahras.”

Silence spilled between the two of them, thick and suffocating. Byleth held Claude a little tighter, trying to salvage his warmth.

After a moment, Sothis finally met her eyes. “There is no other way. You must bestow upon him the Crest of Flames.”

“My _blood?_ ” Byleth exclaimed. “But he already has the Crest of Riegan. Wouldn’t giving him two shorten his lifespan? Like Lysithea or Edelgard?”

“My child, it is either this or leaving him here to die.”

When it comes down to that choice, within a single nonexistent beat of her heart she already knew what to do. She nodded, the gesture full of determination.

Sothis walked closer to his quivering body, giving Byleth a look of encouragement. With the goddess’s guidance, she slit a small line in her palm with the dagger she always carries, and direct her crimson life force into his open mouth. 

Claude coughed a little, the red smearing his lips but bringing some color back to his face. The Crest of Flames burned above her hand and his head, and his breathing mellowed out. The golden crescent shape of his own Crest glimmered in the darkness before flickering out along with his new flames.

Pigment slowly started to leave his hair. His skin was, blessedly, untouched, still sunkissed and warm. Bit by bit, as if time was mocking her, a flush of color finally decorated his cheek, and he looked peaceful. At least he wasn’t in any pain.

Sothis took her hand, nothing but compassion in her features. Byleth gathered Claude in her arms and together they ascended the steps again, taking refuge near the throne. 

The goddess squeezed her hand tighter. “Get some rest, my child. It will be a long slumber.” 

Pressing a kiss to his lips before closing her eyes, she can’t help but think about how much warmer it was with him here in her embrace.

* * *

_Day 25th, Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185_

On the eve of the Millenium Festival, a villager found a figure of a woman with mint hair and filthy clothes floating downstream from the ruined Garreg Mach, seemingly unconscious. They yelled for help hauling her up, finding something to keep her warm in the frigid air of the Ethereal Moon.

And in her arms, clutched tight and secured, was a young man with tanned skin and silver hair.

**Author's Note:**

> my gods this took me way too long to write. but i have an idea for a series now and this will be great :))
> 
> can't wait to write more angst ahaha


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